Months After You Died
by Miss Eggplant
Summary: [Red leaves continued to fly past your face as you put down some iceberg roses onto her grave. You turned to leave, but as you step away, the unmistakable voice of hers whisper throughout the graveyard.] A story of a boy in mourn and a girl forever asleep.


Upon her grave, you stand in silence. It's been a year and two months since she left. Standing there, you let the wind caress your face as the red of the autumn trees' leaves flittered past you. Your short red hair whips softly across your forehead.

Forsaken and forgotten, the girl whom you adored to your fullest. The girl who never got to finish tell telling you,"I love you," before her death brought you into ruin.

You never told _her_ anything either. It's amazing, how you came to know this person. Thinking you loved someone else-someone who couldn't give two God damned shits about you; no matter how sweet and caring that girl pretended to be.

Memories went through your head, you never got to know how you fell for her. You didn't really know how hard the impact of the fall was either. It just happened-'a magical force,' one would say.

Broken and bruised, never to recover. That's what you thought of yourself as. A sepia-clouded memory flashed through your mind. You trudge the way to a bench in the cemetery, crushing the brown, red, and yellow leaves in your path with a soft crunching sound.

The group of friends never fully disbanded after she was gone. Another person tried to take over. There was more grief than unity, though. More fights about something that already passed. Throwing words of "She was a bossy bitch", and "She was our leader." and, "She was our friend,".

You're the only one who thought, "Isn't she still our loved friend?"

You didn't know for sure.

Why didn't you ask, then?

Why did you think that everyone in your petty circle of friendships were immune to it?

More memories clouded your head.

A memory that would send you into tears came up, one that you had been so obsessed about after she was gone.

A short, flittering memory. Even you didn't grasp how it happened. One quick blow.

Time wore down the memory ever so much. An emotionless trainwreck of thoughts was all you ever thought about.

She once told you, _"I'm sick."_

Some people call you a hopeless dreamer.

Some of them call you stupid or stubborn.

Some people tell you that you overthink now.

All these people are right.

* * *

You bring flowers into your car. Today was about the fifth month she's had it. Your friends look at you sadly from the rearview mirror as you adjusted the basket of her favourite iceberg roses. You knew that they thought it was hopeless, but you say that hope is the one thing that can keep someone living.

In your dreams, perhaps.

You still think that she could be cured, that she could be let out. You start up the car. You've driven to the hospital so many times that this was a routine.

Two times a week. That was the quota.

You remember the time when all of your friends would visit all together. They'd bring gifts and laughter and would try to make her laugh. They stopped, though, for reasons you couldn't quite exactly fathom.

You put your hand on the steering wheel and drive away as shouts of your friends drift away to the sound of the motor. You're a responsible driver and kept your eyes on the road. The smooth motor rumbled softly.

It was mid-April. Rainy season. You sighed as the pitter-patter of the rain falls onto the roof of your car. Dark clouds loomed over the highway. The lights of the cars reflect beautifully off the watery asphalt of the street.

The car slices through the water with soft and gentle splashes. The rain is pounding harder now. Visiting hours last from three to ten thirty PM. It's nine. You drive a little bit faster on the freeway.

Fifteen minutes pass by. Your mind is blank, crowded only with the thought of staying occupied by the road and the pounding of the rain.

You wish that she was here right now, in the front passenger seat. She'd point out, "Hey, it's pretty gloomy, isn't it?" or she might even yell at you for peeking at her while she was talking. She loved the rain, though she hated to admit anything she liked. A truly eccentric girl, some people thought of her as, but you always admired her straightforward and unabashed nature.

Sometimes you want to picture her in the group of friends. Everybody drifted apart after she was admitted into the hospital, even though she'd always tell them to stick together no matter what.

You quickly pushed the basket of snow-white roses back into the seat next to you to prevent them from spilling. Lights flittered past you as you enter a tunnel, filling the car with an orange hue. The rain sounds echo throughout the tunnel. The sound of several other cars were drowned out by your windows.

As you exit the tunnel, you turn on the wipes in your car. You start to think about the time when you finally realized who you really cared for. You were such an idiot back then, you think as you chuckle softly at the memory of a naive you.

You always tried to be the goofball, the one whom everyone laughed at and joked around with.

You hadn't thought about it before, but she was always unamused by your party tricks. Worried, even. You never quite understood why until the glass shattered and cut your arm, leaving a scar. She was the first one to rush towards you and help you up.

In the middle of this fond memory, you spot the hospital not a-long ways from where you are. You quickly look to the sides and steer into the parking lot in front of the large structure. It's nine-thirty, and of course the parking lot is virtually empty.

You pick a parking space close to the entrance of the hospital. The doors glow with a bright yellow, and you can't make out anything inside because of the frosted glass. You put the car to a stop and park, then you open the door and take out the keys. You grab an umbrella and the basket of flowers.

You put the keys into your pocket, tucked safely and dry. While opening the umbrella, you climb out of the car in a hurry. The basket of flowers were gripped tightly by your umbrella-holding hand as you managed to close the car door and lock it. The reassuring _beep_ of the car sends you off onto the wet pavement.

The downpour has gotten a bit softer, but still, it pounded on the roof of the umbrella. You reach the stone awning of the hospital. The painted, faded red words of "SERDIN HOSPITAL" are very visible. You open the door and walk in, but not before retracting your wet umbrella and shaking the water off.

You walk in and quickly put your umbrella in the umbrella stand due to strict procedures. You also take off your long, somewhat-soaked coat and hang it on one of the many hangers.

A nurse greets you cheerfully, but you can see in her eyes that she is quite tired, like most of the employees here.

"What brings you to Serdin Hospital?" she asks with a slight skip to her tone.

"Ah, I'd like to visit a patient," you recite back in a collected manner. She looks at you, sad for just a moment. You were used to it, as the prospect of a visitor was very depressing. She lead you to the information desk. You greet a familiar face.

"Visiting Elesis again, I presume?"

You nod and smile cheekily. She was used to seeing you, as her shift would always collide with your visits. She wrote down your name, 'Kaien, Jin', as well as the time you got here. 9:15. She gets up from her desk and gestures you to follow her.

You accompany her down the hall and into the elevator. You look at yourself in the mirror. Casual white shirt. Red tie. You're wearing the pendant she gave you for your birthday, the one with the yin-yang symbol, because she knew that you were into martial arts. You check absentmindedly if the keys were in your pockets, and to your reassurance they jingled with a chime. You ruffle your bright-red hair and blink your golden eyes, then adjusted your bright red scarf around your neck.

Elesis would always tell you that you looked a bit strange for a boy in this modern day and age. You'd always reply back that she looked like an annoying, rebellious sister. She'd get angry about it, then laugh with you as time passed.

A familiar _beep beep _of the elevator signaled the stop. Seventh floor. You and the nurse exit the elevator and walk onto a series of shining white tiles. This place was kept impeccably clean and free of germs, and you knew how much the janitor disliked it when visitors came in after a downpour.

You had made careful work of wiping the bottom of your shoes on the welcome mat outside, though, so that wasn't a problem. You stepped in, the _clack clack_ of your dress shoes echoed a bit in the devoid halls.

"I presume that you already know where her room is, right?"

"Room number fifteen? Of course. Got it."

You smiled again in reply as she shook her head and gave you a sad look. She once told you that you overworked yourself by visiting her twice every week, but you would never take her comments to heart. She looked away in a melancholy manner, then stepped back into the elevator, but not before uttering a 'Good luck', to you. You stared at her in confusion, but recollected yourself.

Your friends back home also told you that you were helpless and running for something that couldn't be obtained. They told you that you should move on.

You associate_ 'moving on'_ with _'forgetting completely'._

You check for all of the dozen of iceberg roses in your basket. They were perfectly white and fresh from the florist. You would always bring her flowers right when the other batch started to show signs of decay; you were all-to happy to change the water of the vase.

You walk down the hospital. Room 1, 3, 5. . . . 11, 13, 15. You stop at her door and knock softly, then opened the silver handle and walked in.

Her face brightened the moment she saw you. You notice that the window's blinds were pulled up slightly. No sound from the downpour entered the white room.

She sat on the hospital bed. Her crimson-coloured hair clad against the white of the bed sheets and the white of her hospital outfit. She looked stunning either way, in casual clothing or hospital dresses that drained colour from her complexion.

Her skin greatly paled a bit after her admission five months ago. She smiled at you as you pulled the visitor's seat and sat down next to her.

"Roses this time?" she asked. Her voice is hoarse from not speaking for a long time. She coughed to clear it out, then asked again.

"Yes," you reply in a resolute fashion,"you said that you liked them. . right?"

She smiled at you, which filled your heart with glee, then replied with a subtle nod. You know that she hasn't been talking much at all. Her voice has gotten from the husky and confident tone of hers to a softer, gentler sound.

You take out the old flowers on the windowsill and put them in your basket, then replace the dozen with the new roses. They clashed against the red of the window blinds, a beautiful combination of patterned red and white snow.

"So, what's been going on?"

"Oh, everything has been going fine! Everyone is getting along," you reply too quickly. You're lying through your teeth, but she manages to see through everything.

"Jin. Stop lying to me. . What happened?"

You sigh and look her into her ruby-red eyes. She looked sad, but she knew that you were lying for her sake, you think. You tell her of the turmoil and the fact that they believe you to be helpless. She sat there and listened.

She was always a good listener.

She turned to face you, you cupped her hand in yours. Your callused hand against her palm as she gripped gently. You hold her softly against your body as she leaned against you.

She was like a frail flower. A stark contrast to what she was like before she was diagnosed. You simply hold her close, your bodies connecting your emotions.

She long had accepted what she would end up as. You open your eyes and spot her white identification band. On it reads, [Elesis Sieghart; 17; Terminal Illness]. You stare at it for about two minutes before she shifted and laid her head down onto the pillow. Her hair draped across the hospital bed in a carefree manner.

"Say, what do you think will happen if I somehow survive?"

You were a bit surprised at her sudden question, but then start to think.

"Maybe we can get married and start a family," you tell her, smiling with the same expression you'd always give her back when you two were children.

"Hmm. That sounds like a good idea," she gave a hearty laugh,"maybe we will."

You smiled graciously, hoping that she was implying that she could live. There was a small chance, and she could make it, you thought. Her expression changed and became unreadable as she closed her eyes and breathed softly.

She opened her eyes again and turned to you and smiled. Your hand cupped hers gently, and you squeezed a bit to tease her.

Before, she was strong and independant; now, she could barely lift the vase of flowers that you gave her. Choked emotions filled your mind suddenly. You wondered how you could live without her.

She looked at you with a worried expression as you tried to stop the hot tears from falling. You would get like this at a lot of the visits, but her smile would always fix it up.

She didn't smile this time.

She got up from her little rest and sat against you, letting you cradle her in your arms. You suddenly had the urge to undo your scarf and wrap it around her. She made a little sound in surprise as you covered her cold neck with the warm cloth, then quickly relaxed and settled into your arms.

You brushed the bangs from her forehead, then rested your head onto hers gently. She clung onto the scarf for warmth. You see her open her mouth to tell you something, but she quickly closes it.

"Hmm? What is it, Elesis?" you cooed. You pet her hair softly and hold her closer.

"What if. ." she started slowly," what if. . I . . Disappeared today?"

You first seemed confused, then fear and despair struck you.

"Elesis, what do you-"

"I asked. . What if I. . Died today?"

She said more resolutely, which only made your heart go ice-cold. You cling onto her hand, only now you realize how shivering cold she is. You hold onto her hand.

"No. . No. No!"

"The doctor . . . Already. ."

Her voice was fading into the abyss of the empty room as you clung onto her harder. Your voice seemed to drown out into silence, seemingly empty sounds uttered from your mouth as she continued to speak weakly.

"I. . Love-"

She made a wrenching moment as she held her hand to her chest and gasped for breath. It happened so suddenly, her eyes drifted off as her body relaxed.

Cold.

You clung onto her cheek gently and stroked it, her breath not touching your hand. You pressed onto her neck for a pulse, but there was nothing.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Dead.

Cold.

Tears.

She was resting in your arms, her demeanor exactly like an angel's. You imagine wings and a halo on her back and above her head. You continue to hold her against you.

It took a while before the beep of the closing hospital awakened your mournful state.

A familiar doctor entered the room; he looked sullen and sad as he woke you from your tranced state with a tap to the shoulder. You didn't want to let her go, but you had to.

You laid her down gently on the bed, then took a rose from the vase and put it in her limp hands. He gestures you out of the door, but not before realizing you left your scarf.

You try to head back to get it, but think against it. You walk out of the door, muttering 'good night' to her soulless body.

"_I love you."_

* * *

"I guess that it's time to go."

Red leaves continued to fly past your face as you put down some iceberg roses onto her grave.

You turned to leave, but as you step away, the unmistakable voice of hers whisper throughout the graveyard.

"_I love you too, Jin."_


End file.
